100 Theme Challenge
by Liung Arkeanda
Summary: The nations reminisce about old times as they watch videos. Each chapter is one video, which is also a one-shot. Good deal of historical relevance, other than chapter 1. Rated for Hungary's hobby, Prussia's mouth, and France's existence. No explicit pairings aside from ultra-canon.


001. Introduction  
>Austria's rare moment of peace is quickly shattered by three pests, a missing ex-wife, a part of his house he didn't even know about, and severe mental trauma. Due to a video he really didn't want to see. It's going to take a lot of videos to remove that image from his retinas... about 100, actually. Good thing Hungary has this handy-dandy catalogue right here...<p>

**A/N:** My first fanfiction! Yay! Finally got around to it! It's a 100 theme challenge, so there'll be a whole bunch of one-shots. Connected by an ongoing storyline. Kinda. You'll see.

This entire chapter is just my sad excuse for incorporating a Table of Contents into a story, and connecting all the one-shots in the 100-theme challenge with some sort of story. While almost all the stories in this challenge will be historically based on real facts and events, with extensive research put into them, this one is pure humour and naughty fun. T-rated fun, with only implied lemons, but nonetheless completely not based on history. I'm just saying this because I don't want to lose any readers who would be otherwise offended by the raunchy humour. This will most probably be the only one that has no historical background.

**Disclaimer:** Axis Powers Hetalia doesn't belong to me. None of the countries mentioned belong to me. (Not yet, anyways.) This meme doesn't belong to me, I discovered it via the amazing Black Rose Authoress, who then showed me how to find it. None of the technology mentioned belongs to me. Uh... the only thing in this that belongs to me is the writing, okay?

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><p>It was a normal morning in a certain European country's house. As it was safely past 5 am and had not yet reached noon, it could be relied upon to a fair degree of certainty that the house would be peaceful, and continue as such for at least a few hours. His ex-wife was off somewhere cleaning and a certain albino nuisance who was known to appear anywhere past midnight or noon had not yet made an appearance. Moreover, there were no pressing national crises that needed resolving.<p>

Clearly, an ideal time for piano.

Roderich Edelstein, also known as the Republic of Austria, sat down on the piano bench and allowed himself a moment to quietly appreciate the (beautiful, lamentably infrequent) calm in his house. Then, sliding back the piano cover, the brunette drew his slender fingers across the keys in a rippling motion, creating a cascade of notes.

Ahh. Bliss.

Long-lashed eyelids slid shut over chocolate eyes as Roderich began one of his favourite pieces: Für Elise. Rocking slightly to keep time with the piece, he allowed the music to wash over him, taking away all his stress and worries, soothing the—

"RODDY!"

_Scheiße._

"RODDY! WE'RE BORED! AMUSE US! WHERE ARE YOU—oh, should have known. Honestly, you _und_ that piano, why don't you just marry it already?"

Why was the bane of Roderich's tranquility at his house far after 5am (the latest/earliest he would stagger in drunk) and before noon (the earliest/latest he would drag himself out of bed)?

"_Bonjour_, _mon cher_, how are you this fine morning?"

"_Hola_, Austria! So nice to see you again, _sí_?

Ah. That was why. The former Axis Power was well used to his own brother; add the albino's friends crashing there as well after a night of drinking, and the three were probably thrown out on their heels for the sake of poor _Deutschland_'s sanity. No slouching around until midday allowed.

Gilbert Beilshmidt, also known as the former Kingdom of Prussia, former German Democratic Republic, or simply Prussia, quickly began to amuse himself with one of his favourite hobbies: irritating Austria.

"Kesesesese! What's wrong, _Österreich_, awesomeness got your tongue? By all means, feel free to start worshipping in awe."

Francis Bonnefoy, also known as the French Republic, pulled a rose from thin air and twirled it, grinning lecherously.

"Honhonhon, _Autriche_, you are looking positively delectable, as usual..."

Antonio Fernández Carriedo, also known as the Kingdom of Spain, had his usual carefree-smile on his suntanned face, green eyes sparkling in anticipation.

"Haha, Austria, where is _Hungría_? She said she had some baby pictures of Lovi to show me~! Ahaha, Lovi, show me, that rhymed~!"

The plague that was the Bad Touch Trio had descended upon Austria. Pun intended. A large ego, a huge pervert, and a big idiot. Could a more potentially destructive trio possibly exist?

The answer to that was no. Not in a million years.

"I do not know where she is, _Spanien_. She said she was off to clean."

Francis instantly began to leer, sweeping his stylishly long blond hair over his shoulder.

"_Pardon_? Cleaning you say? Honhonhon, would _ma cherie Hongrie_ still be in the custom of wearing that most... delightful... maid uniform?"

Roderich would normally have been worried for his ex-wife's virtue. However, his ex-wife being who his ex-wife was, he didn't bother. It would be a more productive use of his time to worry about Francis instead.

"As a matter of fact, _Frankreich_, she is. She is also still in the custom of hiding a very sturdy frying pan somewhere on her person."

France (and his rose) wilted somewhat at that.

"Forget about that frypan-wielding-devil-woman," Prussia declared, "The awesomeness is totally more interesting than someone doing something as unawesome as cleaning!"

"Hahaha~!" Spain laughed for some reason known only to him, his dark brown hair falling in his eyes, "But Gilbert, we've been with you all night! And we're not drinking anymore! And we're bored! Which is why we came to Austria's house! Because they're more interesting! Hahaha~!"

The albino scowled, narrowing his red eyes at his friend. "Wow 'Tonio, way to be mean. How dare you insult the Awesome One?"

The oblivious brunette's smile somehow became even brighter as he looked around in excitement. "Awesome One? Where?"

"ME, YOU UNAWESOME IDIOT!"

"Hahahaha~!"

Roderich watched the sadly predictable argument between Antonio and Gilbert degrade into chaos without any real interest. Mostly, he just wished they'd leave. They certainly didn't need to be in _his_ house to have yet another argument.

Then he jumped violently. He'd entirely forgotten about Francis; never a wise course of action.

"_FRANKREICH_! HANDS OFF MY PERSON THIS INSTANT!"

"Honhonhon, _mais oui_, _mon Autriche, mais oui_!"

"And you are perfectly capable of speaking English! A language we _all_ happen to understand!"

"But _mon cher_, _Français _is the language _d'amour_!"

"I don't care; it's confusing enough trying to translate your English into German without trying to translate your French too!"

"Roddy~!" Gilbert whined, defence of his awesome forgotten, "Roddy, amuse us! Or tell us where the frypan-wielding-devil-woman is so she can amuse us instead, since you're such a bore!"

Oh, that nickname. That horrible horrible nickname. He'd made the grievous error once of telling Gilbert that he didn't like it. Combined with the hyperactive albino poking his cheek repeatedly with a maniacal grin, he only wished he knew where his ex-wife was so she could protect hi—correction, assist him in expelling his uninvited guests.

"I don't KNOW where she is," Austria said, straightening up with a huff as he adjusted his spectacles, "so why don't you GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

"Kesesesese! What's wrong, are we bothering you, Roddy?"

"Yes! You most certainly—that's it, ELIZA! ELIZA, PLEASE COME AND DEAL WITH THESE PESTS!"

"...I'm a bit busy right now," came a very muffled reply, "Just play nice, okay?"

The four nations blinked at each other.

"What the...?"

"Where the hell is she?"

Roderich thought for a moment.

"I... have no idea..."

The other three stared at him.

"You don't know? It's your house!"

"I know! But I don't remember having a room so far away that she'd be that muffled!"

After a moment, the Bad Touch Trio smiled at each other.

"Are _you_ thinking what _I'm_ thinking, lackeys?" Gilbert said in a sing-song voice.

"I think we _are_, leader," Francis replied with a touch of irony.

"We're thinking that there is _adventure_ to be had!" Antonio finished happily.

"_Mein Gott_, what horrible sin have I committed to deserve such punishment?" Roderich asked rhetorically.

Gilbert answered anyway. "You got a stick wedged up your ass _und_ started sucking awesomeness from the world, that's what. Onward, minions!"

And off they dashed, Austria banging his head down on the piano keys in surrender.

But their search came up empty.

"What the fuck, _Österreich_? We've searched every room in your entire house! Where the hell is the frypan-wielding-devil-woman?"

Roderich lifted his head wearily to look at him. "You couldn't find her?"

"I _just_ said that Roddy. Honestly, pay attention!"

"'Tis most curious indeed," Francis mused, rubbing his unshaven chin with two fingers. "We were very methodical in our search, _non?"_

"Does this mean I don't get to see Lovi's baby pictures?" Antonio quavered, his smile actually faltering a bit.

Roderich sighed. "Will you leave me alone if I help you find her?"

The Trio nodded vigorously.

"ELIZA!" he hollered.

Pause.

"... Yes?" A very muffled reply.

"WHERE ARE YOU?"

Pause.

Continued pause.

"...Around..."

The four exchanged confused looks.

"Suspicious..."

They thought for a bit. Suddenly, France smiled a most devious smile, a glint in his eye.

"Follow me, _mes amis_. Come into the hallway."

After they'd all trooped into the central hallway of Austria's house, France outlined his plan.

"_Espagne_, you go stand in the doorway of the front foyer; _Autriche_, you stay here by the door of the piano room, since it's at the back of the house. _Prusse_, you go to the side of the house with the sitting room, and I'll go to the other with the kitchen. Go!"

The spectacled brunette watched with bemusement as the three went to their assigned places. A moment of silence, and then—

"GILBERT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Francis shouted, "SUDDENLY KISSING RODERICH? HOW PROVOCATIVE!"

Austria's outraged spluttering was almost instantly drowned out by a (still muffled, but nonetheless shrill) piercing shriek.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

"Kesesese! She's over here somewhere!" Gilbert called. The others ran towards the sitting room, the perverted blond continuing to report Prussia's 'assault' at top volume.

"OH MY, GILBERT! DON'T JUST START TEARING OFF HIS CLOTHES WHILE WE'RE STILL HERE!"

"But Gilbert, you're not—"

"Shut up Antonio, I know I'm not doing anything to Specs, that's—"

"NOOOOOOO! DON'T START WITHOUT MEEEEE! A CAMERA! I NEED A CAMERA!"

Her voice was getting closer, seemingly coming from below the sitting room floor. Roderich just stood by the doorway, fuming. Francis was having a hard time continuing due to difficulty containing his hysterical laughter.

"OH! WHAT'S THIS YOU SAY GILBERT! YOU DON'T WANT US TO LEAVE! YOU WANT ANTONIO AND I TO JOIN YOU IN RAVISHING POOR HELPLESS RODERICH?"

If there was ever a more appropriate time for a dramatic face-palm, its existence was unknown, Roderich decided.

"WAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTT FOOOOOOOORRRRRRRR MEEEEEEEEEEE!"

The Bad Touch Trio inspected the room carefully, trying to ascertain the her location.

"A trap door maybe?" Gilbert suggested. "But where would it be?" Scanning the room, he advanced toward the rug by the fireplace as Francis continued his narrative.

"HONHONHON! RODERICH, SURELY YOU HAVE BEEN WORKING OUT! YOU COULD NOT POSSIBLY HAVE A BODY LIKE THIS JUST FROM PLAYING PIANO! OH, ALLOW ME TO RUN MY HANDS OVER YOUR DELICIOUS—"

BANG! The floor beneath the fireside rug flew back on previously unseen hinges, smashing right into Gilbert's face. Unconscious, he collapsed onto the floor at Austria's feet.

A head of dusky brown hair popped out of the revealed trap door, wide eyes searching frantically around the room, camera at the ready.

Elizabeta Héderváry, also known as the Republic of Hungary, let out a wail of distress upon catching sight of Prussia's prone form.

"Roderich, how _could_ you?"

"Hah?"

"You fought him off? I didn't get to see! Do you hate me? Is that why?"

"Eliza, think about what are you saying," Roderich spluttered. "You demand I allow myself to be assaulted?"

"Of _course_!" she wailed. "So I can _watch_! And take _pictures_! You can't put up with a little sexual assault for even a _little_ bit? Not even for _me_?"

The more appropriate time for a dramatic face palm had been found, Roderich concluded.

"Hahaha, look _amigos_! Gilbert's bleeding from his head~! It's so red~! Like _los tomates_~!" Spain sang out, poking the object of his fascination.

"Ugh... _Mein Gott_, _Ungarn_, _was ist dir angelegenheit_? _Scheiße, mein Kopf_..." Prussia groaned, slowly regaining consciousness.

"Tsk tsk, _Prusse_, after you Germans just finished lecturing me on speaking _en Français_. Fainting is no excuse," France reprimanded smugly.

The albino scowled up at him, obviously still groggy. "Men don't faint, they pass out," he grumbled.

"I am NOT German!" Austria protested hotly.

"But you speak it," Francis pointed out, "Therefore you are German."

"I AM NOT—"

"Hahaha~! _Hungría_, where does this passage lead?"

"Ah!" Elizabeta cried, "_Spanyolország_, _nem_!" She quickly dashed back down the (formerly) secret passage.

Francis blinked. "What did she just say?"

"'Spain, no'. Don't ask," Austria added. "It's a really odd language. As far as I can tell, she takes someone's name, garbles it, then adds 'ohrs-zaag' on the end... Usually. Most of the time."

"Most of the time? What does that mean?"

"In English your name is France. I call you _Frankreich_. In Italian and Spanish you're _Francia. _How do you call yourself?"

"_France._"

"In Hungarian it's _Franciaország_."

"Ah. My name with an 'ohrs-zaag' at the end. Though it's not, as you say, 'garbled'."

"I did say most of the time. If I may continue...?"

Francis nodded.

"In English her name is Hungary. I call her _Ungarn_. In Italian she's _Ungheria_, and in Spanish she's _Hungría_. How do you call her?"

"_Hongrie_."

"In Hungarian her name is _Magyarország_."

France paused, his brows knitting in confusion.

"... _Excuse-moi_?"

Austria nodded. "But she calls me _Ausztria_."

"... ..._Quoi_?"

"My sentiments exactly."

"I... I see..."

"I try not to question her too much. For the sake of my sanity."

France hrmmed in agreement. "_Mais oui_. She is female. Attempting make sense of the female mind is most certainly an exercise in futility."

The two men nodded sagely, a rare moment in which the two were actually in mutual agreement.

"You're both idiots," Gilbert groaned, pulling himself to his feet. "Women don't need a reason to be confusing. It's their hobby!" He dusted himself off. "Now move it. I got nailed in the head to find this stupid trapdoor, _und_ I'll be damned if I don't go see where it leads. _Scheiße, _but she's got man-muscles!"

"I _HEARD_ THAT!" came the muffled squawk.

"GOOD!" Prussia yelled back, "MAYBE YOU'LL _DO_ SOMETHING ABOUT IT FOR A CHANGE!"

"MAYBE I WILL, BASTARD!" she shrieked.

"I LOOK FORWARD TO IT, BITCH!" he roared. He turned back to France and Austria. "Are you two coming or what?" Turning on his heel, he marched through the door and down the stairs. Shortly after that, there was a thunk, a yelp, and a crash, closely followed by extensive cursing.

Roderich sighed, shaking his head. "For a former bloodthirsty, all-powerful empire, he's surprisingly clumsy."

"_FICK DICH_, _ARSCHLOCH_!"

He ignored the cursing directed at his person as beneath his notice and, turning to France, motioned towards the trap door. "Shall we?"

Francis made a slight bow, a not-quite innocent smile on his face. "After you, _mon cher..._"

Austria narrowed his eyes. Turn his back to France? "No, after you." He glared as France tried to protest. "I _insist_."

Pouting a bit at having his intentions guessed, Francis tromped down the stairs, Austria following.

"Took you long enough, _dummkopfs_," Prussia commented snidely once they'd caught up. Austria just rolled his eyes at the frequent insult. Together, they made their way down the winding passage, eventually coming into earshot of the other two.

"... are all these, _Hungría_?"

"Nothing, Antonio, nothing at all!" Hungary's voice sounded ever-so-slightly hysterical. "Come on, you wanted to see Lovi's baby photos, right? Let's go back upstairs!"

"Hahaha~ but this room is so interesting!"

"No, it's not, it's really not! I tell you, it's not! Now, why don't we just walk out and forget you ever saw this room and—NO DON'T LOOK AT—!"

"_Hungría_, what's this? An entire section with a sign that says 'Spain slash Romano'~!"

The three approaching countries came to the end of the passage in time to hear the unmistakable sound of a palm meeting a face.

"Whatcha find, 'Tonio?" Gilbert called, walking into the room. "Is it something interest—_SCHEIßE!_"

"What is it, _mon cher_?" Francis asked, trying to see around Prussia's inexplicably frozen body. "What could possibly—_MERDE_!"

The two stood motionless, gaping in shock into the room. After waiting for something to happen, Austria shoved by them to see what had them so petrified. And was instantly petrified himself.

This, this was impossible. It boggled the mind. There was no way such a thing could possibly exist. The implications were...

Absolutely, completely, scared-within-an-inch-of-his-life terrifying.

Prussia was the first to shrug off his stupor, stepping hesitantly into the room Spain was currently flitting around, Hungary shadowing him nervously.

"Hahaha~! So cool, Eliza! It reminds me of the time I followed Gilbert into his diary room! Except this has videos instead!"

"Not diaries," Gilbert muttered, "they're _journals_."

Nobody paid any attention. Antonio was busy inspecting the contents of the shelves, Elizabeta was busy trying to stop him, and Francis and Roderich were still in shock from the conflict of what they knew and what their eyes were telling them.

To start the mind-boggling sight, the room was _huge_. Austria spent at least a minute trying to reconcile the size of the room—particularly the soaring height of the ceiling—with the fact that it was under his _house_. He didn't recall going any particular distance downwards, nor was the trek along the passage particularly long. It wasn't long before he gave up trying to make the room conform to the normal laws of physics in favour of _not_ going insane.

To continue the supreme brain-screwing the room was conducting, three of the four walls were completely hidden from sight, as the most enormous cabinets with glass doors were mounted on them, entirely covering the full 30 some feet from floor to ceiling. Suspiciously fragile-looking, ancient library-style ladders reaching all the way to the top answered the question as to how the top shelves were reached.

And the cabinets were _entirely_ filled with data storage devices. Bottom shelves had flash drives, USB sticks, and external hard drives galore. A little higher were BlueRays, DVDs, and CDs. About halfway up the shelves, a good 15 feet high, VHS cassette tapes could be seen, neatly lined up. Near the top, ancient video reels could be seen, film occasionally escaping their reels and fluttering over the shelves.

To complete the strange room was the fourth wall. This wall was beyond human comprehension. Luckily, the room's current occupants weren't human. They still, however, had significant difficulty trying to wrap their admittedly formidable minds around the equally formidable concept now presented to them.

The first impression of the fourth wall was simply this: screens. Video screens, absolutely covering the walls. Television screens of all sorts; plasma, HD, projector; computer monitors of all shapes and sizes; any sort of screen imaginable. Surrounding the screens were what seemed to be recording devices; VCRs, PVRs, Betas, various computer drives, all clearly recording what was playing on the screens.

Some of what was on the screens was fairly bland and unrecognizable; what seemed to be broom closets, sheltered doorways, and most oddly, public bathrooms, all at an angle to clearly see the entire room or area the camera was focused on , including into the bathroom stalls.

Other screens, however...

"Hahaha~! Elizabeta, why is there a video of my and Lovi's bedroom?"

Indeed, as their eyes unfroze and their brains resumed function, more and more screens became recognizable.

"Eliza... is that... my piano room?"

"_Und_ that's my favourite bar! The one with totally awesome beer!"

"Uh, _Hongrie_? Might that be... _Angelterre_'s sitting room?"

Still other screens had people moving around in them.

"_Verdammt_, that's _Schweden_ _und_ _Finnland_'s house! Their bedroom! _Mein Gott... _are they _spooning_?"

"I... I... I don't think my eyes shall ever recover..."

"Hahaha~! _Hungría_, I see _Alemania_'s room! It looks like he's trying to wake up _Italia_! I guess Feli snuck into his bed again~! Lovi wouldn't be happy~!"

Austria and Prussia stared uncomprehending at the baffling room. For the life of them, they could not make sense of it.

France, of course, was the first to figure it out.

"_Ma cherie..._ It seems to _moi_ that there are videos streaming from nearly every nation's bedroom..."

Hungary shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

"And there seems to be a great many broom closets and bathrooms..."

Hungary coughed softly into her hand, cheeks burning.

"And also meeting rooms, secluded nooks and crannies, interiors of nations' cars, and various nations' houses..."

Hungary very determinedly avoided meeting anyone's eyes.

"Honhonhonhonhon... _Ma cherie..._ what would it take to convince you to part with some of these delectable films? Particularly those marked 'England'?"

Hungary's head shot up with a gasp, glaring at France.

"Never!" she cried. "Do you have _any_ idea how _long_ it took me to get these videos? How _hard_ it was, sneaking into everyone's houses to install button cameras? How _tedious_ it was, sorting through all the videos? Thank god for whoever invented motion-activated cameras... And you want me to just, just _hand over_ the ones of _Anglia_, one of the most uptight and prudish nations _ever_? His footage don't even fill a full column!" She pointed to a section of the shelves by the door labelled almost entirely 'England/France'. "And most of them are just you assaulting him!" She flounced over to a huge armchair situated in front of the walls of screens and started tapping away at a keyboard. "But I suppose," she mused, "I could make a few copies for you..."

A choking sound reminded her of the presence of the other nations in the room.

"E-Eliza? _Ungarn_, _liebe_, surely this isn't...?" Roderich could barely talk past the lump of vague horror lodged in his throat, completely at a loss to finish his sentence. Gilbert, however, had gotten over his speechlessness and was more than happy to finish it for him.

"_F-fick_, Eliza, you're a total creeper! D-does this mean you've been spying o-on _everyone_ for the past..." He cast a look towards the uppermost shelves, where above even the most ancient reels that clearly dated back to the first invention of video, aged black-and-white photographs could be seen, "the past WAY TOO LONG! Oh, _Mein Gott_, there's an entire two columns with my name on them!"

"Well what do you expect," she snapped back, "what with all your 'seizing vital regions'"—air quotes here—"attempts? Don't worry, dear," she added to Roderich, "I'll forgive you for fighting him off just now... After all, there were plenty of other times I managed to record."

Austria was still in too much shock to even face-palm. Gilbert, however, had his interest perked.

"Seriously? Like that time after you two broke up _und_ he got super drunk for once _und_ we had steamy rebound sex?"

"EXCUSE ME!" Roderich shouted, finally snapping out of his stupor, "WE AGREED TO _NEVER_ SPEAK OF THAT TIME! Never _ever_!"

"Oh yes," Elizabeta assured Gilbert, completely ignoring her ex-husband, "That time was very good. I'd just finished placing a motion-orienting camera in the piano room, just in case, so the angle was quite perfect."

"Kesesese! My, but that does bring back memories!" Gilbert leered, "I topped _hard_, didn't I?"

"Indeed you did, _Poroszország, _indeed you did..." she purred, "though you aren't quite at my level."

"I'm not at your... your what now? Level for topping?"

"Yes. You could stand to learn a few things."

Gilbert's mouth dropped open. In an unsteady, almost mechanical movement, he turned to look at Austria, who was currently attempting to sink into a miserable puddle on the floor.

"You...? She... topped...? Her level... WHAT?"

Austria nodded miserably.

"I... I don't..." Prussia's mind had clearly just been blown by the mental image.

"How does that even _work_?" he asked weakly. "She doesn't have the... the... the equipment!"

Roderich just shook his head. "Believe me, she makes it work," he moaned pathetically. "Times like those make me wish for the existence of brain bleach."

Forgotten by the other three, France and Spain had continued to explore the room. Spain, however, had not wandered from the section that was apparently labelled with his name and Lovino's.

"Hey, Eliza," he called, popping a disk into the computer that sat in front of the chair that clearly acted as a control centre for the entire room, "What's on this one?"

"AHH! ANTONIO, _NEM_!" she cried, "Whatever you do, don't press—!"

*Click*

Spain pressed play.

Hungary slumped in defeat. The largest screen, situated in the centre of the room, went black for a moment, before a video began playing—with sound.

"_J-j-just because I agreed t-to this d-doesn't mean you can j-just start attacking me this instant, _stupido_!_" an angry voice rang out. "_H-haven't you heard of t-t-taking things s-_slowly?"

"_But_ mi querido..." another voice replied huskily, "_After you finally said yes, how can I stop myself? You are simply too... irresistible~! You look so delectable... just like _un tomate... _I just want to eat you up... Mmmm... Right... this... instant!_"

"_Damn tomato bastard! I didn't mean we should d-do... THAT... r-right now! Hey, give me back my shirt before I—a-_ah_~! N-no, wait d-dammit, I said—_ohh_! Stop... n-nng... a-aahh~!_" A few more sighs and moans, which suddenly broke off. "_W-w-what are you doing?_"

"_Stopping like you asked, _mi amor_... if you don't want me to continue, then I have no right to continue... too bad, because if I did I would start..._" The voice got quieter as more words were whispered.

"_But~!_" the voice continued after a moment in a cheery voice, "_You obviously don't want me to, so I'll do as you say and stop... such a shame..._"

"D-d-dio accidenti, Spagna_!_" the first voice fumed, "_I said n-no such thing! Now g-get back here, a-a-and do what... what... what you just said you'd do, dammit! A-and you better be—_AHHN_~! N-_nng_... A-Anto... _oohh..."

*Click*

Hungary had pressed the power switch.

"Awww~!" Spain and France chorused. Hungary just smiled indulgently at them.

"Why'd you go and do that, Eliza?" Antonio asked. "I was enjoying that!"

"_Oui, oui_," Francis chimed in, "And it was so obviously getting to a good part!"

Elizabeta tutted at them. "Antonio, you may not care, but how do you think poor Lovino will feel if he finds out you let other people see that?"

Antonio sighed in acknowledgement, wincing at the thought.

"And Francis, though I'm sure you were enjoying it very much, I rather prefer my ex-husband's mind to be intact, thank you."

The perverted blond turned to find the other two standing behind them, eyes still glued to the now-blank screen, obviously traumatized.

"I... I have never been so scarred in my life..." Roderich managed to squeak. "The image is burned into my retinas..."

"I... I just saw my best friend naked!" Gilbert lamented, "_Und_ his skinny-ass boyfriend! _Und_ I wasn't even _drunk_!"

"Oh, cry me a river, Gilbert," Elizabeta snapped at him, "You've tapped that before!"

"I have?"

"You were both very drunk, but yes. You tapped that gorgeous piece of tanned manflesh, ohh yes.."

A sudden dark aura instantly made the air very thick and hard to breathe.

"What was that I just heard, _Señor Prusia_?" Spain breathed down Gilbert's neck, causing him to jump in fright. "Did I just hear that you laid hands on _my_"— "HOLISHIT where'd he get that big-ass _axe_?"— "innocent little Lovi?"

The air surrounding Spain could almost be seen to writhe in fury and barely-suppressed violence as he stalked his helpless prey, the aura promising torture and mutilation to come.

"_Es tut mir leid!_!" Gilbert shrieked in terror. "_Verzeih mir_! I'm sorry! I don't remember doing that! Forgive me! _Entschuldigung_! I won't touch him again, I swear!"

"_Spanyolország_!" Elizabeta called, a video camera in her hands, "Antonio, darling, you can stop now! As amusing as a video of this would undoubtedly be, and as happy as the world would be for doing it such a favour—" "You frypan-wielding-devil-woman, totally not helping!" "—I seriously doubt _Németország_ would appreciate you killing Gilbert."

Spain paused in his advance on Gilbert to look at Hungary with a confused expression. "Who?"

"Dear _gott_, that bear's amnesia isn't contagious, is it?" Prussia muttered. Spain shot him a dirty look and he quickly shut up.

"_Deutschland_," Roderich offered in a monotone. "She said Germany would not appreciate you killing his brother."

"Oh."

"Besides," Hungary added, a tad reluctantly, "Gillikins never touched your precious Romano. For exactly that" —she indicated Prussia cowering at Spain's feet — "reason. When I said he tapped that, I only meant you. Lovino's skin tone is natural, hun. You're the one that's tanned."

"Exactly what reason~?" Antonio asked brightly, anger completely forgotten as his enormous battle-axe disappeared back into whatever extra-dimensional storage-space it had come from.

"Oh, just the fact that you're very protective over your little boytoy," Hungary replied grandly, waving a hand in their general direction, "and everyone—Gillikins included—is terrified to provoke Boss Spain_._"

"I am way too awesome to be scared over such a thing!" Gilbert protested hotly. "_Und_ don't call me that!"

"Oh really?" Hungary inquired, "You're not scared of what Antonio will do to you if you touch his precious Lovi?"

"Not at all!" Prussia declared, "If I felt like it, I could go over _und_ claim that pussy's vital regions anytime, I just... uh..."—the dark aura was back with a vengeance, Spain's eyes practically shooting death rays at Gilbert— "uh, never had the inclination! Nope! _Und_ never will! Because he's all yours, _Spanien_! I'd never think of touching little Romano!"

"Hahaha~! How nice, _sí_? That I get my little Lovi _all to myself_ and Gillikins will _never ever touch a hair on his head_, _sí_?"

"I _said_! Don't call me tha...!" Gilbert trailed off as the deathstare was directed at him again. "... uh, yeah. Never touch a hair on his head. Got it."

An awkward silence ensued, before France clapped his hands lightly.

"Well, _mes chéris_, we have another problem on our hands at the moment!"

"Another one?" Hungary sighed, "You mean aside from you four being here in the first place?"

"_Oui_!" Francis chirped, "We don't have any brain bleach!"

Red, green, and brown eyes blinked owlishly at him. "What?"

France pointed over towards the doorway, where Austria sat against the wall, seemingly lifeless.

"Oh my god, _Ausztria_! What's wrong, darling? Are you hurt?"

"...Yes..." came the weak reply, "...my eyes... they shall start bleeding any moment now..."

"Oh no!" Elizabeta cried, clapping her hands dramatically to her cheeks, "He's suffering from severe trauma due to his _yaoi_ tolerance limit being exceeded!"

"His what?"

"Ask Kiku later. In the meantime, we need to treat him immediately!"

"By doing what, exactly? Honhonhon, if it is a kiss required to wake him, I would be more than happy to—"

"In case you hadn't noticed yet, Francis, you already take up almost half of one wall," Elizabeta cut in dryly, indicating a particularly large section of shelves with a sign labelled "France/The World", "and I really don't have room for more videos. Trust me, we're good."

France pouted a bit, but helped the brunette nation carry her ex-husband over to the armchair, taking the opportunity to cop a feel.

Gilbert walked over and started poking Roderich in the head. "So, frypan-wielding-devil-woman, how do we fix him?"

"He's got an image stuck to his retinas," she said, "how would you normally fix that?"

He thought for a moment. "Replace it with a stronger one!"

"Correct!" she cried. "And while there is undoubtedly an image somewhere in here that would work—"

"Like West using his secret BDSM stash or something?"

"—Or something," she agreed. "While there is surely an image in this room that would work—"

"Like West _und_ Feli both using said BDSM stash or something?"

"—Or something," she acknowledged. "So while there is definitely an image somewhere here that would work—"

"Like Feli topping West while using aforementioned BDSM stash or something?"

"Yes Gilbert! Or something!" she cried, frustrated. "_As I was saying_, while there is certainly an image in these stacks that would work—"

"Got anything worse than those?"

"Huh?"

"Because all those images are very firmly etched into _my_ retinas, _und_ I'd really rather them not be. And it was no wimpy video either, I just walked in on them. Specs thinks he's got it bad, he doesn't have a brother with secret kinky fetishes."

Hungary sighed. "I was wondering when I'd start wishing for that Tylenol. Yes Gilbert, I have worse—or better, depending on your perspective—than that. But if you'd let me finish, I was saying that I don't think that particular method will help much."

"_Verdammt_. Why not?"

"Yes, it will replace the original image. But _somehow,_ I don't think the solution to trauma is _more_ trauma."

"Point taken. So what do we do now?"

"I have no idea."

"Great. Just... wonderful. So what you're telling me is Specs is about to get even more boring as he stares off into space reliving that extremely explicit video?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Such a shame, _mon Autrich_..." France sighed, shaking his head, "if only you knew the wonders of _l'amour_, you could see that such a video is not traumatizing, but enlightening! The pure innocence of the sweet young Lovino as he experiences his first time... 'tis a beautiful thing, _non_?"

"But Francis," Antonio said, his brow furrowing, "How did you know that video was of our first time?"

"Because you said so in the video, _mon cher_," he replied airily.

"Oh, I see! Hahahahaha~! I hadn't realized!" And with that Antonio wandered off.

Hungary, however, frowned. "That happens to be one of my favourites," she said, "and never did either say anything about it being—"

"I know, _ma cherie_," France assured her. "You're not the only one with hidden cameras, after all. Honhonhonhon..."

Hungary's confusion instantly cleared up and she shared a knowing look with France. Prussia, watching them, felt all the hairs on his neck and arms stand up.

"_Mein Gott_, I'm never going to feel safe again."

"Elizabeta, what are these videos over here?" Antonio called.

"Oh, those," Hungary scoffed. "Those I just kept for the heck of it. There's no... illicit moments, shall we say. Just some good times I thought I'd keep for the sake of fond memories."

Antonio thought about that for a moment.

"What kind of memories?"

"Various ones. Some are mixes of a bunch of videos—like back when I was still trying to figure out Russia. Because _my_, but his section is small! How are you supposed to catch him in... illicit relationships when everyone is so afraid of him?"

"So you put a bunch of videos of him together?"

"Yeah, though I don't know how well I did. Others are just instances in time that are memorable. Like a few of the times America's brother... what's-his-name, made him cry. Or particularly interesting events in history. Stuff like that."

"But none of it's traumatizing?" Prussia inquired.

"Well I wouldn't go so far as to say—" Elizabeta started, only to be cut off.

"Good enough. Lackeys, we have found our amusement for the day!"

France and Spain gave a short cheer, hurrying over to sit on the floor at Austria's feet, where Prussia had already made himself comfortable.

"Well, woman, hurry up! We haven't got all day!" Gilbert prodded her.

Elizabeta scowled down at him. "Actually, you have. Here, this is a list of all the videos and short descriptions."

"Whoa there, _Ungarn_! That's a lot of videos!"

"98 to be exact. Give or take a few."

"You can't be exact _und_ give or take a few at the same time, moron."

"Watch me, bitch!"

"Whore!"

"Bastard!"

The Bad Touch Trio bent over the catalogue, reading through the descriptions to decide.

* * *

><p>001. Introduction<br>Austria's rare moment of peace is quickly shattered by three pests, a missing ex-wife, a part of his house he didn't even know about, and severe mental trauma. Due to a video he really didn't want to see. It's going to take a lot of videos to remove that image from his retinas... about 100, actually. Good thing Hungary has this handy-dandy catalogue right here...

002. Love

003. Light

004. Dark  
>In certain locations far to the north, wintertime heralds not only cold and Christmas but also darkness, sometimes days at a time without end. These remote northern locations are generally shunned by humans, who suffer from depression without sun. While the endless winter nights have long since become a fact of life, Italy has come up with a plan to change that! His plan is most certainly going to be unbelievable, mind-boggling, absolutely ridiculous, and... <em>effective<em>?

005. Seeking Solace

006. Break Away

007. Heaven

008. Innocence

009. Drive

010. Breathe Again

011. Memory

012. Insanity

013. Misfortune

014. Smile

015. Silence

016. Questioning

017. Ow!

018. Rainbow

019. Grey

020. Fortitude  
>Canada is a country whose contributions and accomplishments are often overlooked and belittled. Canada offers aid without any need for thanks or recognition. He is the nice, peaceful, more mellow neighbour of America. But there is one country that begs to differ. This nation would never <em>consider<em> treating Canada with anything other than the utmost respect, caution... and fear.

021. Vacation  
>Canada: the Great White North. Land of the Silver Birch, Home of the Beaver, Where still the... but you get the point. Whatever else it is, there's no denying that Canada is very, <em>very<em> cold. What do you expect from a country that had to invent a new thermometer because the mercury kept freezing? But, unknown to many, there was a chance for that to change! That's right, the _palm tree _almost became a native plant species in Canada! What blasphemy is this? Canada, a popular beach vacation destination?

022. Mother Nature

023. Cat

024. No Time

025. Trouble Lurking

026. Tears

027. Foreign

028. Sorrow

029. Happiness

030. Under the Rain

031. Flowers

032. Night

033. Expectations

034. Stars

035. Hold My Hand

036. Precious Treasure

037. Eyes

038. Abandoned

039. Dreams

040. Rated

041. Teamwork

042. Standing Still

043. Dying

044. Two Roads

045. Illusion

046. Family

047. Creation

048. Childhood

049. Stripes

050. Breaking the Rules

051. Sport

052. Deep in Thought

053. Keeping a Secret

054. Tower

055. Waiting

056. Danger Ahead

057. Sacrifice

058. Kick in the Head

059. No Way Out

060. Rejection

061. Fairy Tale

062. Magic

063. Do Not Disturb

064. Multitasking

065. Horror

066. Traps

067. Playing the Melody

068. Hero  
>America is a self-proclaimed hero, but no one can actually think of a time he really saved anyone! Canada points this out and is well on the way to making America cry again in the passive-aggressive way he has. Alfred tries to prove that he is, indeed, a hero. Can he possibly succeed?<p>

069. Annoyance  
>The Greatest American Hero (minus the red jumpsuit and bad perm) is back once again to prove how much everyone loves him. This time, it's England's turn to take him down a few pegs. After all, during WWII there was a saying amongst the British, explaining the biggest problems with the new allies on their soil... "Americans: over-paid, over-sexed, and over-here."<p>

070. 67%

071. Obsession

072. Mischief Managed

073. I Can't

074. Are You Challenging Me?

075. Mirror

076. Broken Pieces

077. Test

078. Drink

079. Starvation

080. Words

081. Pen and Paper

082. Can You Hear Me?

083. Heal

084. Out Cold

085. Spiral

086. Seeing Red

087. Food

088. Pain

089. Through the Fire  
>Spain and England have a long-standing rivalry that goes way back. Back to before they were the nations they are now. Before England became a strict and stuffy prude, before Spain became a smiling and oblivious idiot, these two nations were bloodthirsty captains that ruled the high seas. And they most certainly didn't want to share. Particularly with each other.<p>

090. Triangle

091. Drowning

092. All That I Have

093. Give Up

094. Last Hope

095. Advertisement

096. In the Storm

097. Safety First

098. Puzzle

099. Solitude

100. Relaxation

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** And there you have it. My sad excuse for a table of contents. Basically, once enough of the one-shots go up, I imagine it'd be easier to find one you want if you have a table of contents. Plus, you won't have to read them in order, you can pick the ones you want!

But for now, they're not all done, and placeholder chapters are not allowed, so they have to be uploaded in the right order. So for now it'll just be so you guys can see which ones are done/confirmed, and maybe tell me which ones you're most interested in? It'll be updated as I finish writing more, so it won't stay looking all incomplete like this.

Props to anyone who got the reference in the "are you thinking what I'm thinking" scene and the "red jumpsuit and bad perm" reference in the ToC.

Apologies to anyone who speaks Hungarian for making fun of your language. But in my defense, I think I make an excellent point.

Super-special thanks to EndangeredAccord, who was my beta for this! He was soooo helpful. Go check out his fics too, m'kay? They're really good :3


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